- For her I breathe the joyful day; • For her thro’ Nature's wilds I stray,

• And cull the flow'rs and fruit.

• Sweep, sweep the lute's enchanting string, • And all thy fweets, lov'd Luxury, bring!

“ To enjoy, is to obey :" · The heav'nly mandate still prevail, . And let each unwise wretch bewail

· The dire neglected day.

• Ah, graceless wretch ! to difobey,
• And devious quit the flow'ry way,

And Night the gods' decree!
Still, still, ye gods, the blessings fend !
If e'er my guilty hands offend,
• Indeed my heart is free.

* In Pleasure's ray see Nature fhine;
• How dull, alas ! at Wisdom's fhrine !

“ 'Tis folly to be wise."
• Collufive term ! poor vain pretence!
Enjoyment, sure, is real sense,
• In philosophick eyes.

• I love the carol of the hound,
• Enraptur'd on the living ground,

• In dashing extasy:
I love the aukward courser's ftride,
« The courser that has been well try'd,

And with him eager fly.

• And yes, I love, ye sneering wife! • Fair Honour, spurning still at lyes, • As courting Liberty ;

Aa 2

Still

• Still hand in hand great Nature goes, • With joys to honour never foes,

• And all those joys are free.

• And welcome thrice to British land, • From Italy's voluptuous strand,

• Ye destin'd men of art; • Breathe on the thrilling, meaning found, * Each grace shall still be faithful found,

At your admirer's heart,

Avert, ye gods! that curse of faols, • The pride of theoretick rules,

· That dupery of sense: • I ne'er refuse the proffer'd joy, « With ev'ry good that can annoy

• Moft eafily dispense,

I catch each rapture as it flios, * Each happy loss a gain supplies,

¢ And boon still follows boon : « The smile of beauty gilds my day,

Regardless of her frowns I stray.. ! Thus thro' my hours I run !

But let me not for idle rhyme • Negleet, ungrateful, good old Time;

• Dear watch! thou art obey'd.' 'Twas thus the Man of Pleasure spoke; His jovial step then careless took,

To Çelia--of her maid,

ON

ON A SUPPOSED SLIGHT FROM

A FRIEND

BY MISS ROBERTS.

HOU great Director of the soul,

Who first to being call'd me forth ; Teach me my passions to controul,

Nor let my nature lose it's worth.

Bred in Adversity's sad school,

My dearest wishes ever cross’d;
Cannot I yet those tumults rule,

Which make these dear-bought lessons loft?

Alas! by various evils torn,

How is my anxious mind distress'd!
The past with secret tears I mourn ;

The present seldom gives me reft.

To future prospects if I fly,

Ah, me! what hopes can they bestow ?
Can flattering Fancy cheat the eye,

With aught but lengthen'd scenes of woe?

In early bloom, in life's first prime,

To Love and Friendship still inclin'd ;
With lively hopes I look'd through time,

Romantick pleasures fill'd my mind.

But

But now, alas! those phantoms fled,

By youth's light hand so gaily dress'd; My worn-out mind, to Love grown dead,

I thought myself in Friendship bless’d.

But disappointments ftill attend

The mind to earth-born pleasures prone: Look up, my soul, behold thy FRIEND,

And bend before his awful throne.

• Father ador'd, incline thine ear

To her, whose heart afflictions press; " Whose mind, tho’ weak, thou know'st sincere:

• Oh! calm, and make her feelings less !

• Lend me, O gracious God! thine aid;

Vouchsafe to rectify my heart: · Thy goodness, on thy work display'd,

« Will lead me to the better part!'

THE ACADEMICK SPORTSMAN;

OR, A WINTER'S DAY.

T

BY GERALD FITZGERALD, ESO HE feather'd game that haunt the hoary plains,

When ice-bound winter hangs in chrystal chains ; The mimick thunder of the deep-mouth'd gun, By lightning uller'd, and by death out-run ; The spaniel springing on the new-fall'n prey ; The friend attendant, and the fpirits gay : These are the scenes which lur'd my earliest days ; And scenes like these continue still to please.

Oft, when I've seen the new-fledg'd morn arise, And spread it's pinions to the polar kies;

Th' expanded air with gelid fragrance fan,
Brace the flack nerves, and animate the man ;
Swift from the college, and from cares, I flew,
(For studious cares folicit something new)
From tinkling bells, that wake the truant's fears,
And letter'd trophies of three thousand years :
Thro’ length’ning streets with fanguine hopes I glide,
The fatal tube depending at my fide.
No busy vendor dins with clam'rous call,
No rattling carriage drives me to the wall;
The close-compacted fhops, their commercę laid,
In filence frowņ, like mansions of the dead :
Save, where the footy-Throwded wretch cries Sweep,'
Or drowzy watchman ftalks in broken sleep,
'Scap'd from the hot-brain’d youth of midnight fame,
Whose mirth is mischief, and whose glory shame.
Save, that from yonder stew the batter'd beau,
With tott'ring steps comes reeling to and fro.
Mark, how the live-long revels of the night
Stare in his face, and stupify his fight!
Mark the loose frame, yet impotently bold,
'Twixt man and beaft, divided empire hold !
Amphibious wretch! the prey of paffion's tide,
The wreck of riot, and the mock of pride.

But we, my friend, with aims far diff'rent borne,
Seek the fair fields, and court che blushing morn;
With sturdy finews, brush the frozen snow,
While crimson colours on our faces glow ;
Since life is short, prolong it while we can,
• And vindicate the ways of health to man.'

To yonder vales that spread beneath the hills,
Where Miltown river winds with murm'ring rills,
Onward our course diversify'd we bend,
And right and left with anxious care attend :
The poring spaniel, ftudious as he goes,
Scents ev'ry leaf that on the margin grows ;

Sudden